6308/The Citadel of the Vile King

The Citadel of the Vile King
Date of Scene:	24 January 2019
Location:	Londinium
Synopsis:	The citadel of the dragon tyrant, Caer Gwrtheyrn, invites King Arthur and comrades within to confront Vortigern over the future of Britain.
Cast of Characters:	6856, Gilgamesh, Count Kord, 1103, Rhongomyniad, Haguro, Staren, Kotone Yamakawa, Bahamut, Sir Gawain

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Kalia (6856) has posed:
Caer Guorthigirn, sometimes also spelled Craig Gwrtheyrn, Voltigern's City, Arx Guorthigirn, Citadel of Vortigern, or Craig Craig Gwrtheyrn, Vortigern's Rock, is a bumpy, detached hill in the remote countryside of England, a hilltop surrounded by a small forest that looks like it would have been the perfect place to build a small fortress, once upon a time. That is, until a week or two ago, when an actual citadel did spring up there again.

A construction fo stone and dark steel, it wasn't constructed by the locals, but rather appeared under the sheer will of the dragon called Britain. Unmanned, uncrewed, for the barbaric king no longer had "people", it sat there ominously, killing the land, the nearby forest, and the sky itself. Even at peak daybreak, no sunlight manages to pierce the pitch black veil around the fortress, or maybe it would be more accurate to say the citadel eats all the light. An open challenge had been issued, to King Arthur and his allies. Vortigern would wait in his citadel, knowing full well he didn't have to life a finger to make them come to him. If they didn't, his citadel would reclaim Britain for him.

There are likely Warp Gates nearby, and nothing in or out of the citadel makes an effort to stop people from entering it. The heavy gates open in front of the first arrival, whether they try to open them or not.

Inside, a massive hall leads to a throne room. Images from the past flash, like flashbacks or phantoms made real for just a moment. The Knights of the Round Table are being overwhelmed by Vortigern's men. Lancelot and Mordred take the front, like savage murder engines. Bedivere yells for Arthur and Gawain to break through while they hold the line. Gawain and Arthur enter the throne room and are swallowed by the darkness inside.

It might be a warning, too.

But no one bars entry to the throne room either. Inside, a man - or a black hole in the shape of a man, at any rate - sits on his throne, in a room illuminated solely by candlelight. He does not rise for arrivals, or so much as say a word. Vortigern's hand rests on his spiked warhammer, sitting by his throne, a mace that for a moment looks to be the size of a warhammer, the next the size of a car, the next the size of a house, the longer one stares at it.

Gilgamesh has posed:
     This is a reminder.

     It touches the back of the King of Heroes' mind in an unpleasant manner. It is a reminder of a distant age, of an age of gods when mankind's destiny was not their own. No matter how unhappy Gilgamesh was with what humanity had made of itself, it was still something humanity /had/ made of itself - had made free from the intervention of the divine, of beasts like himself, and like Vortigern. That was a choice he knew he would make. It was a choice that, in the end, Gilgamesh needed to make. Sumer had to fall. Babylon had to fall. That was all that there was to it; that fall would bring about something that gave mankind the chance to be more than mere slaves.

     So in this moment, he is not here for Rhongomyniad. Oh, he is, of course - she appeals to him on levels far beyond the physical, in the same way as the lady Priscilla, a creature like them isolated from the realms of man and god alike, caught between two worlds. But there's more to it than that.

     The King of Heroes does not walk into a place in his shining golden armor unless there is something more serious than simply a whim.

     He is the shining light in the darkness. Where he walks, he seems to glow, a golden soul matching the castle's blackness. It isn't light so much as the appearance of his aura, the *power* of the King of All Creation, the *light* of his charisma and his majesty. His gorgeous blonde hair is slicked back in spikes. His perfect face is framed in a frown.

     He walks through the halls, admiring them. They are well-made. Of course they are. They were made with magic. They might as well *be* the Dragon Lord.

     The gleaming light of the King of Heroes stops in the center of the throne room. He does not bow. He does not kneel. The King of Heroes has never done either of those things in his life. His glowing red eyes simply focus on the Dragon Lord, on the black spot in the shape of a man.

     Then those red eyes close.

     "You know who I am."

     It isn't a question. It's a statement.

     "I do not need to name myself before you, remnant of a fallen age."

     Gilgamesh's eyes open once more. "I offer you this kindness, beast of the forgotten times, king under the mountains of time. Leave. Retreat into the Other Side. Flee this place. No shame, no dishonor, will befall you. None would mock you from turning away from the Wedge of Heaven. Walk away, and leave this era to the humans who should rule it."

     "Even I..."

     Gilgamesh flexes his fingers thoughtfully. "Once I am done correcting their course, even I must do the same. All things have their time. Yours has long passed. Mine is yet to come and yet long ago."

     "Don't be a fool. Don't force me to destroy you."

     "Walk away with your pride, your honor, and your power intact."

Count Kord has posed:
    When Kord arrives, he arrives looking somewhat worn down, one of his horns cracked, strange glowing 'gashes' along his form. They don't seem to impede him all that much, just embodying the wear and tear on his body after a big fight. It hasn't been long since he full-body tackled Good King Moggle Mog, and already he walks into the citadel, all the way up to the throne room, a twenty foot draconic creature that slinks through the manmade structure like a cat flowing through an enclosed space. He does not impede anyone, instead flowing by like a brief fog of red and black if he needs to, briefly intangible but carrying a strange mystical weight to him. It would feel weird to stand in the area of his body for any period of time.

    He eventually stands before Vortigern, his pale eyes baleful and unhindered by the darkness.

    To emphasize Gilgamesh's words, "You shall halt your encroachment on the world of the living." It's spoken gently, stating a fact of his own.

Theurgus (1103) has posed:
    Theurgus arrives, carrying a long silver spike in one hand.

    The reason for this, is the fact she's arrived in her Divinity form, Processors flaring large clockwork wings as she pulls up and floats away from the local Warpgate towards the giant citadel. Gems embedded within the mechanisms glow a faint blue-white, and seem faceted, like ice.

    She approaches the black fortress, saying nothing as the others take point on their oaths and declarations... but she does offer her own once she's close enough. "The Organization will fall, your part in its machinations will not continue so long as my source code still compiles." With that, she stabs that spike into a nearby surface, driving it down a good foot into it, then summons her staff in her other hand.

Rhongomyniad has posed:
    Alongside the golden armor of the King of Heroes strides the shining silver armor of the Lion King. White furred mantle flowing behind her, the Divine Lance held firmly in hand, and clad in that distinctive lion helmet with the signature mane; this is unmistakably King Arthur who accompanies Gilgamesh into the heart of Caer Gwrtheyrn.

    Memories tug at her mind. Possibly intended to warn or intimidate her-- she ignores them. They receive little more attention than is required to cross-reference them to the memory held within her mind, that distant previous life that defines her humanity. The possibly-expected emotional reaction simply does not occur.

    She comes to a stop beside the King of Heroes, shoulder to shoulder with the taller armored figure. The Lance is lifted, turned point-down, and rested against the citadel floor with one gauntlet firmly wrapped around the weapon's haft.

    "The Age of Gods has ended," the King states plainly, "You exist only as a remnant of a remnant, representative of a long-bygone age. Do as the King of Heroes requests and depart this place. Return to where you rightfully belong."

    She then lifts the lance into a more ready position. The metal bands wrapping it begin to unravel, the Lance's pure light seeping through the forming gaps.

    "If you do not comply, than you shall be once more destroyed by King Artoria Pendragon, the Goddess of Rhongomyniad."

Haguro has posed:
     It figures that Haguro's first visit to Britain would be when it was under siege from a remnant of its own past. Her own demise at the hands of the British has not been forgotten, and there's probably some sort of dramatic irony that she's shown up now alongside those that had come to save Britain. Not that she's had much/any love for the people of Britain generally, but...

     Perhaps she'd be best served focusing on watching things for now. Expressing her own half-formed thoughts wouldn't do her any good, and the images flashing before her eyes cause her to flinch slightly from the barbarism of it all. Even as nonplussed as she is with Britain as a whole, the bravery of the knights still inspires... Something in her.

     The Abyssal Cruiser's not quite sure what it is, but it's something. Spotting Vortigern and the Elites coming in to meet him, she keeps her mouth shut for the time being. Her attention is split between the one on the throne and the Elites in place. Gilgamesh in particular gets a long stare from Haguro, and Kord's arrival actually has her shifting around uncomfortably. For better or for worse, Theurgus doesn't quite get the same reaction.

     Rhongomyniad, though. She recognizes the lance-bearer, and there's another long stare. It's an awkward situation.

Staren has posed:
    Staren's not really involved with this world much, despite accidentally kind of declaring war against the Mage Association, but he knows that bad stuff happens here and people need protecting. So apparently Vortigern is a dragon in this world and is attacking, but ISN'T a Servant...? It's kind of confusing, working from shreds of information and not someone more closely involved explaining it all. Still. For a multiversal adventurer, 'kill the big monster' is pretty straightforward!

    A jet fighter with shiny, reflective plating flies over the forest, transforming into a 40-foot mecha and landing in front of the forest. "Where's the dragon?"

    There are a couple of people among the gathered heroes that could be called dragons, but Staren's seen Kord and Bahamut before, of course. They're not the target. But they DO enter the castle.

    "...Oh. /That/ kind of dragon." The human-shaped kind with supernatural abilities. Got it.

    Well, he's all the way here! And there's a decent chance that the guy will turn into an ACTUAL dragon and take the fight outside. So, Staren grabs a laser rifle and his bag and hops out of the cockpit, energy wings briefly appearing to slow his fall -- he heads into the castle with the others, walking interspersed with brief flying hops.

    And into the throne room they all come. The Bad Guy is just sitting there, waiting for the speeches, not just killing them or making them go through a trap-filled gauntlet just to reach him. What the hell?

    Gilgamesh and some lion-helmed woman shed some light on the situation -- although he doubletakes when she gives her name. It's the girl version of Arthur again? She looks a bit different...

    Well, since it's speechifying time, Staren chimes in:

    "I'm no god, but I can tell you this: If you want this to be resolved in the manner of gods, you should take their offer. Because if you don't..." he hefts the laser rifle in his hands, and has the mecha outside aim its railgun right at Vortigern. How hard could it be to shoot through the walls? It's worth a shot once the fight starts.

    "We will resolve it in the way of Man."

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
There was more to deal with back in England there had been something horrible let slip. So here she is again to help with dealing with this the castle leads her feeling cold from the moment she sees it. She looks at the place it's clearly an open challenge and she knows they are going to have to meet it. AS she finds her way in the image of the past flashbacks.

Gil and Kord give their warnings, and she gets a bit more insight on Gil as well she will wait, keeping her weapon lowered as she waits for what will happen next, if the spirit listens she won't pick a fight but The King of Heroes is correct, this is their only chance to back down.

Bahamut has posed:
     Just outside the border where darkness devours light, a collection of glowing white runic circles appear before forming into a sort of guide path. A draconic roar thunders through the air before Bahamut breaks through each circle in turn, shattering them like glass as he plummets toward the ground. It starts to look like he is going to crash into the ground, but his massive and majestic wings spread just in time to arrest his momentum. Still, he causes the ground to shake somewhat when he lands, crouching to absorb the impact before letting out another roar and slowly standing to his full height with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

     The King of Dragons (of Spira) cannot abide a known evil dragon, and has come not only to assist the king of this land but to defend the honor of dragonkind. He makes his way into the castle behind the others, having to be careful of any areas meant more for a person of human sizes. Once he reaches the throne room he takes up a position behind the other two kings and growls menacingly. "If it is but a shard, will it even understand our words?" he wonders aloud as he looks over the collection of those already here.

     Haguro and Kord draw his attention most, for they could easily be fiends if they were on his world. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on them. Staren and his machine draw attention of a more positive sort. And not to be outdone, Bahamut smirks lightly. "I am called King of Dragons on my world. You are an affront to all I stand for. As they have said, stand down and dismantle this tower or..." He holds out a hand and power builds in it before it forms into a flame of pure energy. "...prepare to be destroyed."

Kalia (6856) has posed:
    A distorted voice rings out from the throne. "King Gilgamesh of Uruk. The king who failed humanity beyond all others. You allowed greatness to deteriorate and ultimately die. Look at your legacy. The Age of Civilization, the Age of Man, is not Britain's proper future. Britain was meant to be so much greater than this. Humanity could have embraced great powers, tamed the divine and risen to greater heights, but shunned it all for what? Modernity? Convenience? Humanity does not need your guidance, King of a Fallen Kingdom. You failed them once already. I will redistribute your treasures to the worthy, and with them reclaim Britain, then the World."

    Vortigern rises, but only at the sound of Rhongomyniad's voice. The pitch black head turns to look at Kord and Theurgus. "I am encroaching on nothing. I /am/ Britain, and its will to rise ever above the fates others have confined it into." For a moment, his form appears massive, like he really is the size of the country.

    "And you, Red Dragon," he rumbles at Rhongomyniad. "I warned you when you struck me down. This country has no future under your rule. Look what has become of it! Look at the failure you share with the Tarnished King. I will break that spear of yours in half on my knee and release the future it so callously denied Man."

    Haguro is not addressed, because she does not speak - but Kalia appears in proximity to her, floating in mid-air idly. "This is interesting, right? His restless spirit wanted back into the world. We granted him that request, although that might be overstating our abilities. It would be more accurate to say that blood flowing in the streets of London brought him back. Either way, we're eager to see what happens. Whether he wins or loses, we think it'll have been worth it."

    The sheer amount of ill-will in the room is, in and of itself, Kalia's prize.

    Staren actually causes the Vile King to rumble in laughter. "The way of Man indeed. For left unattended, Man eschews greatness even when it stands before him. Your toys cannot threaten a country. They cannot threaten /me/."

    Another dragon enters. Vortigern's body turns, and his warhammer rises from the floor, grasped in one hand. "I will break that resolve and drink your blood, beast. With it I will rise to even greater heights. This citadel is meaningless to me. I will break it myself if it gets in the way of this."

Kalia (6856) has posed:
    Vortigern's aura swallows the entire room.

    Holy weapons lose their sheens. Lights dim. The effect even attempts to encroach onto Gilgamesh's treasures, but only once he deploys them, if he does.

    The aura crushes your chests like massive hands trying to choke the air out of your lungs.

    And Vortigern's hammer falls, towards Rhongomyniad and Gilgamesh, like an impossibly massive warhammer.

Sir Gawain has posed:
There is crushing darkness. There is a stifle of holy sheen, of the bright lights. Even Gawain's defense is tarnished ever so slightly, the sun blotted out by the darkness that is Britain. But Vortigern cannot stifle one thing...hope.

Bursting in faster than any normal human could run, Gawain runs through the aura. It chokes at him, taking away his breath, pushing his chest back. It's enough to force him to almost stop his charge. But he doesn't. Because Gawain defeated Vortigern once before. He can do it again.

"...Never fear, it is I! Sir Gawain!"

The knight draws Galatine in one swift motion, and moves to slice into the shadow that is Vortigern, sword igniting in the process, holy sunfire attempting to burn through the usurper. "Vortigern! We slew you once! What makes you believe we cannot do it again?!"

Count Kord has posed:
    The response only gets a loud and confident scoff from Kord. He has no desire to argue the point with Vortigern, not when he seems intent on destroying everything he touches. The dragon stands tall among all the others in the room, the throne hall of this great citadel.

    The aura falls over him like a cloak. It's a familiar feeling, and so soon after the powers of the Good King Mog. He breathes a sigh as he feels it dig into his flesh, and he simply... lets it. He lets it wash through him and over him, and he knows it will pass in a moment. His eyes briefly close, and then he opens them as the pain of the Vortigern's dark gravity passes. He has an answer now.

    "That was a mistake."

    The dark twists and sharpens, and then becomes a spiderwebbing array of terrible jabbing spears from all directions, trying to find purchase in the heart of the being before him. Shadows gouge into stone and slice through metal, annihilating everything they touch. In the swirling black, Kord's eyes half-lid, sorrowful that he has to fight a god, or perhaps a dead image of faith. It's not something he enjoys doing, though he attacks out of necessity anyways. He's not about to let his feelings get in the way of what needs to be done.

    He doesn't hate Vortigern at all.

Gilgamesh has posed:
     There's a moment where the King of Heroes is completely, utterly silent. Amidst all the loud, roaring children around him, amidst the insults being hurled about to the dragon, the King of Heroes's silence is notable. Meaningful. His eyes sink shut once more.

     Then, as Vortigern speaks, he twitches his lip upwards in an irritated sneer.

     "Mongrel."

     Gilgamesh's eyes open. "Worthless mongrel. You think I failed? You would blame me for these peoples' failure? How incredibly arrogant. Just like a god to think in such meaningless terms. That only one person could be responsible."

     The King's face alights with red tattoos as he challenges Vortigern's aura. "I merely gave them the right to do as they pleased, without the intervention of things like you. I am responsible, yes - but I will correct *my* part in this error. The rest is up to them. If they will not be led..."

     "They will be bled."

     Vortigern comes in swinging. His dark aura meets Gilgamesh's blazing gold. His mace smashes into the King's stomach, sending him flying into the wall of darkness. For a moment, Vortigern might even believe that he had defeated the King of Heroes.

     If, perhaps, he is some kind of idiot.

     What emerges from the hole is not the King but an absolute slew of weapons. Gilgamesh emerges from the hole behind it, riding a magic carpet, hanging above the battlefield like a sun as the Knight of the Sun arrives.

     "You want to insult me, mongrel? Want to try and mock the King of Heroes? Normally I let such trash flow off my shoulders, but today I'm feeling particularly spiteful!"

     The King slams his fingers downwards, and more weapons come pouring out of the sky above Vortigern, hammering downwards with overwhelming force from two angles. "I wonder why! Could it be that my mercy was rejected by an upstart wastrel? Could it be that my kindness was spat back at me by a worthless beast?"

     "Go on, you pointless mutt! Tell me what else you'll do! Tell me how else you think you're better than me!"

     "Making me laugh myself to death is the only chance you have of escaping this alive!"

     "Fuhuhahahahahahahah!"

Haguro has posed:
     Reclaiming Britain? Claiming Britain, even? That's somewhat laughable, but not entirely foolish. Haguro keeps a low profile as the voice addresses the gathered Elites, but her silence now comes from thoughts and ideas rather than uncertainty and anxiety. She narrows her eyes as the shadowy figure calls itself Britain, and she nearly jumps out of her skin when Kalia appears nearby.

     "Eh? I-I guess. If this is what's lurking under Britain's surface, though..." Haguro furrows her brow, glancing at Rhongomyniad again briefly before turning to Kalia. "Is London really in that bad of a state right now? It's not surprising because London, but... Maybe you're right. Seeing how this all goes should be worth it for me, too."

     With her mind set, the Cruiser tips her tail off her shoulder as she braces herself when that crushing force strikes at her core. She endures it at first, then screams while clutching her chest and lurching towards Vortigern.

     "You're Britain, right...? Then show me how strong Britain is! Show me that Britain deserves to stand!" Shouting towards Vortigern, Haguro lunges forward with her front-tail priming its guns, firing a volley of rapid blasts while the Cruiser moves in to strike with a haymaker of her own. They're not aimed at Vortigern's 'body', however, but at the shadowy figure's warhammer!

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut listens quietly as the creature called Vortigern addresses the group, each in turn. It seems his question about this remnant perhaps lacking a mind is answered. The creature's words to Bahamut make the metal dragon smirk. "I am Bahamut, Aeon of Bevelle and King of Dragons. My resolve will not break even in the darkest of nights or the most dire of days. The people of Spira crushed a creature not unlike yourself with their resolve, and I am their champion. This may not be our land, but we will not allow another world to fall to such dark days."

     The last few words are a bit strained as the dark aura's pressure asserts itself, but Bahamut's solid build manages to weather the worst of it. The gunmetal blue dragon grins at Vortigern. "You will have to do better than that, so-called dragon." he says before finally firing the spell he has been holding in his talons since they first entered the throne room. The orb of swirling blue, white, and grey flies toward Vortigern before exploding in pure energy, seeking to immolate him more powerfully than mere fire.

Theurgus (1103) has posed:
    Theurgus brings up a barrier, interlocking hexagons of blue light to absorb damage as she tries to move, but one cannot dodge an attack that strikes every possible place at once. She's engulfed and her Processor crystals dim, losing power and forcing her to drop to the ground.

    She isn't defeated yet, though that sapped a lot of power, she can feel it. "Charta, increase Resource allocation..." she says into her comm pearl, then raises her staff. "Crackling impulse, amplitude aligned. Scintillate and ionize, strike and sunder. Upon the high mountain, split the void! THUNDEROUS REBUKE!" Her staff flares brightly, the gemstone shifting yellow-gold, before a bolt of lightning lashes out at the source of the aura, seeking to disrupt the effect.

Rhongomyniad has posed:
    "Mm," is the only noise Rhongomyniad has in response to Vortigern's admonishment. There's no denial, no impassioned rebuttal. Just that sound, as if she accepts the statement at face value. This is what he truly believes, after all. There is nothing to be said which would change his way of thinking.

    She has no such expectation from a fragment of a memory.

    As that great hammer swings down, the Goddess' lance fully unfurls. The braided metal bands disperse into motes of light as they unravel, exposing the Lance's core as a shining golden light in the vague shape of the weapon for which it is named. The light of the Lance burns away the aura of the Vile King as it washes around her-- It is rather the hammer itself that slams down upon her.

    At first, it appears as if the King of Knights has been crushed. As the dust thrown up by the impact fades, however, it becomes clear that the hammer has not actually struck the throne room's floor. It has, instead, impacted a layer of pure white stone that has burst from the floor. There's a rumble as this pillar shoves back against the Dragon Tyrant's strength, pushing to the ceiling and revealing its true form-- as a section of castle wall.

    The stones realign to create a door near floor level, and Rhongomyniad steps out, her helmet deformed. Reaching up one-handed, she removes it, casting it aside, ignoring the line of blood rolling down the side of her face from her scalp.

    "You challenge the World that has rejected your existence," her words are level, lacking rage but also passion. The castle wall section descends once she has stepped out of it, "This is a battle you have already lost."

    She lifts the spire of unimaginably Divine light in her hand, pointed to the ceiling. The maelstrom of clouds overhead begins to roil, as something disrupts the effect that the citadel's presence has on its surroundings. More immediately, the floor within the Citadel responds as well-- A series of white stone battlements rise out of the floor around Vortigern's feet. Once she is certain that her allies are out of the circle, Rhongomyniad thrusts her Lance forward-- and the floor erupts into a full-sized castle turret, fully intent on crushing the monstrous King against the ceiling of his own castle.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa hears the voice and the word that come make her narrow her eyes a bit. She knows those words she's heard them so many times from Gil she'd lose count if she wasn't a full conversion cyborg but they do bring up a point she'd not considered. Urk only exists in memory and ruins on most worlds. She does not say anything else on that as she braces herself.

"So you have made your choice, whatever one might say about the King of Kings? Urk left us a legacy of ideas and concepts we built upon as you condemn the modern world have you not thought of what might come of us? The stars lay out before us and to claim that we will need to be as numerous as the stars. If The King of Kings was a failure do you think his tale would be the oldest work of literature known to mankind?"

She has her own feeling about Gil but she understands the debt that is owed to Urk and him.

As the attack start Kotone cloaks and she's just gone she's able to get clear of Vortigern's assault she's moving in on him and she'll open up with her assault rifle sending a burst of fire to try and keep him tied up, this man is already dead. He needs to go back to his grave and that much is clear, to her.

Staren has posed:
    Kalia is here and MAKING THINGS WORSE GODDAMN IT. Staren shoots at her, not because she HAS to be shot on sight but because she is obviously enhancing his enemy's power and you shoot the damn buffer first. He'll talk in a moment, but it IS Vortigern's turn right now. Vortigern, who scoffs at the power of Man! Staren can't help but give a sharp, derisive laugh at the apparent ignorance. "HA! The workings of reality itself will be my 'toy'! And you're part of reality!" And then his voice becomes strained as he's being... crushed?? "Though... not for much... longer!"

He looks at Kalia and tries to speak, but he's being crushed. Damn that stupid aura! His synthesized voice comes out of his helmet anyway. "What's 'interesting' is that you only show up to help people hurt others. Never to help them help eachother. Quit acting like you don't have an agenda."

    He gives the fire command to the Star Hawk. A stream of metal projectiles is flung into the castle walls at several times the speed of sound. Staren hopes they get through. If they at least start opening a hole to shoot through, he'll supplement them with missiles to widen it.

    While the words come out of his helmet and the bullets come out of his mecha, Staren's scrambling to counter the effects of the crushing aura, pulling a couple of hyposprays from his backpack and disconnecting his helmet just enough to bare some neck to apply them. Artificial red blood cells full of oxygen, and healing potion because he may as well. He's not sure how long it'll help, it's not a long term solution, but hopefully it'll last until someone stops the crushing effect.

Kalia (6856) has posed:
GAWAIN: Gawain enters, if late. Vortigern's hammer rises, blocking Galatine with a bit of strain. Its holy light seems to diminish, dying in the presence of the Vile King. "If you believe yourself able to defeat centuries of hatred, then I welcome the challenge, Knight of the Sun! I will drink your blade's light and reminisce in the despair I inflicted upon the two of you back then." Vortigern's hammer swings in a wide arc, trying to catch the knight and smash him to the other end of the room.

KORD: Shadows pierce through the Vile King, but it would be hard to tell whether they inflicted damage or not, owing to the being's... appearance, or lack thereof. A hole remains a hole, even when wounded. He doesn't bleed. He doesn't vocalize pain. His hammer swaths the air, and despite the distance between the two, it feels as though it is right next to Kord, the weapon's size truly impossible to tell with just eyesight. It is massive, yet fits in his hand like a nasty warhammer.

GILGAMESH: Countless weapons fly at Vortigern. The holy amongst them seem less valuable. Less shiny. It might be a bigger afront onto the King of Heroes than anything he could say to him. They impale the Vile King, and his response is to grow. Now twice the size of a man. Three times. The weapons are like needles sticking out of a pincushion. "Whether you die of laughter or by my hand is irrelevant. I blame you because you were the King. Your people's faults are your own. Your people's future, your responsibility! You claimed to be wise but could not see that humans would waste the chance given to them." The warhammer doesn't swing for him this time. Vortigern reaches out with his palm and closes it towards Gilgamesh, and darkness attempts to skewer him from every direction.

HAGURO/STAREN: "Not anymore," Kalia responds. "They fixed it." They motion towards Rhongomyniad & crew. This is cut short when Staren SHOOTS KALIA, who this time is missing a chunk of their head from the more accurate shot. They glare at him. "Rude." And vanish, for the time being. They're still on magical radars though. Probably watching from a window. Where it's safe!

HAGURO: Vortigern's hammer is apparently made of sturdier stuff than he is, because in response to the incoming volley, he swings it, smashing the ammunition away, and back towards Haguro! Oh no!

STAREN: And the same is true of Staren's incoming shots, too. Vortigern's speed picks up, his size increases yet again, now four times the size of a man, and he smashes those incoming rounds and missiles right back at the Star Hawk, and a few inside the citadel at random, with impunity.

BAHAMUT: An explosion crashes into Vortigern. He isn't knocked back - he stands his ground, and grows again in response. But not in size, this time. Those gauntleted hands, however hard they were to tell apart from the rest of his shadowed body, gain talons. Wings begin bursting from his back. A beam of concentrated black, red and purple light shoots out of his head, straight at the dragon.

THEURGUS: Followed shortly by lightning, also crashing into Vortigern. It trails along his shadowed body, seemingly to slow him down momentarily, but the continuous beam of darkness fired at Bahamut goes straight for the mad magician next, as the Vile King has but to turn his head to change his target.

Kalia (6856) has posed:
RHONGOMYNIAD: His hammer smashes into a sudden wall. He scoffs. "Camelot will not shield you now, Red Dragon. It could not then, it will not now! A battle is only lost when one accepts that it is! I have done no such thing!" He couldn't. Vortigern couldn't, ever, accept loss. With his dying breath he had denied Arthur to the end. Walls attempt to crush him, and he fights back. His empty hand punches through the walls, letting them impact him so he can prove his strength. In a moment he is before Rhongomyniad, towering over her. He reaches down to grab her outright, to try to physically squeeze the life out of her.

KOTONE: Rounds impact Vortigern, now so large it would be hard to tell if they hit or were just eaten by the hole in the world that is his body. The king's foot slams down, and the citadel shakes under his weight, massive chunks of the ceiling threatening to crush Kotone underneath them!

Count Kord has posed:
    The hammer swings, and Kord can feel it coming toward him. So he responds accordingly. His body weaves out of the way of the strike, and the mace scrapes along his body, gouging only a small wound in the dragon and making him stagger a step or two away. He anticipated the attack and so it didn't do enough to take him down. He moves back and away, and sets up a defense of solid shadow that he may use to mitigate whatever Gilgamesh is about to do to the Vile King. From here, he does what a Pokemon does best... he shoots element-infused lasers.

    In this case, a great blast of blue and purple energy, ripping through the room in a thin beam toward the Vile King's center of mass. It does not project light, and instead simply warps the perception of space around it. Indeed, this is a Psychic blast, and Kord's mouth remains shut, his eyes instead glowing with psychic energy as he projects the attack toward his foe.

    It has a 50s-alike energy beam sound.

Theurgus (1103) has posed:
    Diamond Soul isn't the most rugged of DCCs. Lexicon is by far the toughest of the existing set. So as that beam of vile black rakes across her, she attempts to dodge, but the energy dissipating aura stalls her ascent enough that she can't even mitigate the damage. Her barrier shatters, and she's slammed back into the wall of the hall. "GUYYAHH! Ch-Charta... f-full allocation..." Her body is a spiderweb of damaged code, red cracks breaking through the surface texture of her body as she falls to a knee, using her staff to support herself.

    The silver spike blossoms an antenna from its exposed tip, and a beam of light seems to pierce the blackness and into it, before being directed into an aura around the DCC. "Guardian Kernal, Superior Defender, bring unto us the executables thine Processors doth bear; as we render unto thee. Ensure the attempts of the malicious Virii prove fruitless! Annihilate their Offenses! Vanquish their Renderings. Rend the Null! Blizzard Chains!" Her staff gem shifts to the same blueish white as her Processors, and she stands as the spell circle erupts around her. A similar one appears beneath the Vile King, before giant frozen chains made of glacier ice lash out to attempt to bind him down and bury him beneath their icy embrace.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
There is a tactic to deal with someone who is using Therm Optic cameo, area saturation and that's just what the fallen King does. The chucks of the ceiling fall and Kotone is caught under them. Had she been how she was before her assaulted by a thug? She'd be a smear here she's hurt but it's not the end of her.

To an outside observer it seems like it. Kotone let out a cry and vanished under the wreckage. They go still for the moment nothing moves trapped under them Kotone hears Gilgamesh's warning and thinks it's time to get off her as very hard.

The rubble shifts and Kotone lifts it with everything she has and she's not done there as she's holding a massive slab of wreckage to the point it's straining her enhance cyborg body and then she throws it at the fallen King.

"THIS IS YOUR CASTLE TAKE IT BACK!"

She heeds Gilgamesh warning and will leap away with everything she can muster, she'll make a three-point landing away, cloaking again as she hits the ground.

Haguro has posed:
     "Did they? That's not too surprising, but..." Haguro spares a glance at the Elites that aren't herself and Staren at Kalia's gesture, but doesn't have time to freak out at the former shooting off a chunk of the latter's face as she's beset by her own ammunition being swung back at her.

     "Wha.. Mister Staren! Why'd you do that?!" She can still yell a little, at least, even as she whips her tail in front of her to bear the brunt of most of those returned shells. She winces at the explosions, apparently still capable of feeling everything through them, but at least her head is safe!

     For now. Hearing the call to keep her distance, Haguro breaks into a run as she starts firing yet more shots at Vortigern. Instead of aiming for the weapon (since that didn't work out great), her next volley is aimed at... Nothing?

     It's aimed all around Vortigern! His arms, his legs, even the ground at his feet is not safe from her rapid shots as she focuses on limiting his movements and throwing off his footing!

Bahamut has posed:
     The hateful beam crashes into Bahamut, knocking the large dragon back and leaving marks and dents all along his metallic hide. He growls as he slides back, digging his talons in to arrest his movement. "Are you such a fragment of your former self that you must steal the power of others? Or were you always so weak as to draw your strength from others rather than relying on your own?" Bahamut growls at Vortigern.

     Bahamut hears Gilgamesh's warning and smirks lightly before taken several large steps back. He may be proud, but he is no fool. When an ally requests that you step back, you do just that. "Have at him, King of Heroes." Bahamut rumbles as he prepares another spell of his own. Lightning seemed to have the most effect so far, and so Bahamut's talons arc with blue-white energy before he unleashes the spell upon the creature which is looking more and more draconic all the time. Electricity explodes outward from Bahamut and a deafening thunder shakes the air in its wake.

Staren has posed:
    Staren frowns at Kalia's departure, but there's no more time for her now.

    Reflected railgun slugs fly in the Star Hawk's general direction. Some of them hit! It is not dodging right now. Staren activates his forcefield in time to have a reflected shot shatter it, then thinks to just /stop shooting/. He's already taking to the air as Gilgamesh tells everyone to stay back -- and that's fine with him! His own plan for how to retaliate ALSO works best if noone is close.

    He hopes Gilgamesh is kidding about the planet thing, though.

    Staren flies out the hole his mech made, the cockpit opening just long enough to take him in. He realizes he can breathe now, but can't relax and enjoy it: Vortigern needs a pummeling immediately!

    The Star Hawk readies its gunpod and looses a salvo of missiles of varying size. Staren didn't bring the huge missile packs this time, but this is nothing to shake a stick at! 15 or so missiles of varying size spread out then converge on Vortigern -- some detonate into fireballs hot enough to strip the electrons off most nearby atoms, while others detonate in a more concentrated attack, shaped explosions turning bits of metal into penetrating lances of high-energy physics!

    Most importantly, swatting them out of the air should just destroy them or set them off early, unless something /really/ weird is going on. Which it might be. You never know with scenarios like this.

Gilgamesh has posed:
     No one has ever wanted to see the King of Heroes angry.

     As the spears of shadow impale him from every direction, as they try to punch through his golden armor, give up, and just go under it, there is a well of fury bubbling up underneath the King's perfect features. Blood, holy and glorious, spills out of his wounds. The armor is pried apart by the shadows, falling into a gap in space. The magic carpet disappears. The King plummets to the ground.

     The King of Heroes hits the ground hard enough to make him bounce.

     He is bloody. Very bloody. He's also shirtless. His hair falls back down around his head, from the spiked-back slick to the handsome cut he usually wears. The rain of the Gate of Babylon ceases. Many of those treasures, oozing with tainted darkness, are stabbed into the ground throughout the castle. The auto-recovery Noble Phantasm simply isn't kicking in. Gilgamesh simply refuses to kick it in.

     They're tainted.

     His collection. Tainted.

     His works. Mocked.

     His people. Threatened.

     The King's blood-soaked hands clench into a fist. His red eyes stare dully into space.

     He's been taking it seriously the whole time. Vortigern is the first opponent that, like Enkidu, has deserved it. Has *needed* it. Or, rather, Vortigern is a remnant of an age that was his responsibility to end, a remnant that had fallen to someone else. Someone standing near him. A beautiful blonde holding a holy lance. She had...picked up the trail he had laid down. She had closed out that age of humanity being slaves. She had killed this beast before.

     And, in truth, he could let her do it again. He knew that. But...

     'I blame you because you were the King. Your people's faults are your own.'

     The King of Heroes pulls himself to his feet. The blood and cuts are all across his chest. His hair hangs in front of his eyes. Vortigern is correct. He was the King. It was his responsibility to do better. He could have left them with...he could have given them more. He could've shown them...he could've...

     'You claimed to be wise but could not see that humans would waste the chance given to them.'

     Of course he could.

     Of course he saw that. Of course he saw humankind's reticence. Its unwillingness to move forward. Its inability to...

     ...to guide itself.

     He had gambled. He had gambled and hoped and believed in those people. He had wanted to believe in that spirit, in those humans. And when he had emerged in the future, he had found his life had been spent - his /friend's/ life *would* be spent - toiling to make a future that repelled him. He had waited, and hoped, and dreamed, of a bright and beautiful future where all mankind held the universe in its palm.

     He had been rewarded with grey prison-towers.

     And, for an instant, he almost is willing to admit Vortigern is right.

     For an instant.

Gilgamesh has posed:
     And then the golden key falls into his hand. There are no speeches. There are no dramatic words. There is no mockery. There is simply the King, taking it seriously. There is simply the King.

     No words are spoken as he raises it up into the air. He shoves it into a ripple and turns it as though it was unlocking a lock. He turns it to the right, and the world begins to quake, as though the world knows what is coming, as though the world understands what is waking up. Music begins to swell beyond the pale as that red aura erupts like a spider's web. The light spreads out in criss-crossing circuitry etched in the sky. The world seems to grow dim.

     No. The world does not grow dim.

     The King's aura is simply more brilliant than the sky.

     The light drowns out all color as the red contracts. The key vanishes. Gold and red contract into a single point in the King of Heroes' hands. The world gives a final, shuddering quake of protest as the red lines trap the dark shadows cast by the King's glory, as the glory congeals into a handle. The world knows, and the world fears, and the world can do nothing but know and fear, for this is something beyond its capacity, beyond its reason, beyond its understanding. It is a thing not forged of any concept in the world but of things that came Before, when the world was still new, and like any child, the world fears the parent's wrath. The air shivers. The land shakes. The castle quakes. The sky beyond the castle roof trembles. The King of Heroes raises the thing in his hands and levels it at Vortigern as the world stills and the shaking stops and the sky beyond turns blue once more.

     It is a flat-topped cone of black and red, an unassuming-looking thing on a handle. The red etchings throb as Gilgamesh swings it once through the sky, leaving contrails of harsh bloody light. The King holds it up in front of him, his fingers along its side, his eyes full of affection and joy as though he were embracing a lover. He looks at the thing as if it is his only joy, as if it is his only wonder, as if all the rest of the treasures of the world are meaningless before it.

                            EA - SWORD OF RUPTURE                            

Gilgamesh has posed:
     The King swings it down again. It starts to spin, three distinct pieces etched with red light. The red contrails reverse. The world trembles once more, but not in fear. It trembles obediently. The air begins to buffet the ground, tearing up chunks of the castle, grinding them against the vortex. In moments, the unassuming object is surrounded by a tornado, a whirling, shredding storm of red light simply held in the hand of the King. It follows his motion into the sky, shockwaves tearing apart the castle as he raises it. The whirling object grinds against the laws of space themself as the King pours his glorious power into it. Amidst the deafening roar the King opens his perfect lips to speak, and despite all of the chaos, all of the thunder, all of the majesty, his voice can still be heard flawlessly, as though he was right next to every ear on the field.

I speak of genesis. The elements amalgamate, coalesce, and bring forth the stars that weave all of creation.

     The power surges. Beneath their feet, the earth begins to collapse. Magma burns forth, erupting from cracks all the way down to the core. The molten land is driven away from the King by the sheer force of that red light, drunk into the vacuum, and then extinguished. Trees catch fire before they, too, are shredded and drawn into the cyclone of destruction, the unrelenting cylinder of power.

Gilgamesh has posed:
I speak of the beginning. Heaven and Earth are divided and Nothingness celebrates Creation. My Sword of Rupture rends the world apart.

     Gilgamesh's eyes blaze with crimson flame as the red lines stretch across his body like a creeping virus.

     The whirling, grinding vacuum grows black as even light is obliterated between those horrible red lines. The whirling grows. The music swells. A feeling of terror and joy seeped into the land comes surging to the surface as the world sings in praise of its creation, joining Gilgamesh's symphonic assault. The King's eyes are nothing but a bloody glow as the pulsating, grinding, horrifying tool of genesis ascends above his head, a sceptre of rule in the hand of the perfect king.
The vortex that turns the stars, this heavenly hell signifies the end of the eve of genesis. Subside with death!

                                 ENUMA ELISH                                  

     The blazing red comes swinging downwards. It is not focused. It is not aimed. It does not target. There is no aiming this. There is no targetting this. This is not a precision weapon. This is not a weapon that can know precision. It simply consumes, consumes, consumes. in the thundrous red light. The world splits, the sky ends, and everything ceases to be. In its place is a blazing inferno that is at the same time pure darkness, an endlessly-stretching hellscape of primordia that burns without casting light. Only the light of the Enuma Elish, the light of the Star of Creation, can be seen, as it dictates a new world into existence. Enuma Elish consumes, splits, and recombines, as the act of Genesis is remade, as Time stands still and stretches, as the World itself is torn to shreds.

Sir Gawain has posed:
"I believe hope can defeat anything, with time and effort, Vortigern. And we're all putting in effort...so the time is now!" It's a little cheesy coming from Gawain, and the hammer smash hits him at the side, not fully smashing through his armor but vibrating through it enough to bruise into his ribs as he slides backwards across the floor, coughing heavily as he tries to steady himself. It's a powerful hit, before Gawain comes back in, rushing forward with the blade.

Despite the holy light diminishing, Gawain has a plan. Thrusters on Galatine suddenly kick up, as the blade boosts Gawain forward, sunfire burning to its brightest as it moves to try and impale Vortigern in his chest. It probably won't be enough to kill the monster even if it hits his 'heart', but it should definitely hurt...

And then Gilgamesh gives his warning. Gawain's eyes rise, as he moves to try and rip Galatine out of Vortigern if it impacts, and moves to dash and leap out of the way, superjumping into a crouch, hoping his armor will stop whatever happens from killing him.

Ea is unleashed. Somewhere, the Mages' Association is freaking out. And Gawain keeps moving. He knows that this attack could kill him, if on accident. The magma splintering burns into him. The inferno briefly touches into his armor. But he avoids the brunt of it, which would probably erase him.

Hopefully, Vortigern doesn't.

Rhongomyniad has posed:
    "I have never expected Camelot to shield me," Rhongomynaid states in that matter-of-fact tone of hers. When the Vile King reaches for her, she tenses her legs. Mana erupts, and she soars for the ceiling, out of Vortigern's grasp. The turret she summoned suffers damage, and then crumbles as it recedes back into the Citadel floor-- and the Goddess' face displays the faintest touch of unhappiness for the sight. This glimmer of emotion disappears when she re-fixates her gaze on Vortigern himself.

    "For I have always been the shield of Camelot."

    She thrusts the Divine Lance skyward once more. Something slams on the reality being enforced on the countryside by the citadel's presence, and the hideous black clouds overhead rumble as if with the thunder of an oncoming storm. Golden light starts piercing through the clouds in places, but it is not the sun that burns into the exterior of this imposition.

    Rhongomyniad lands upon the floor of the throne room once more, several meters clear of the Dragon Tyrant. She quickly rights herself as she skids to a halt. Her eyes survey the situation, falling on Gilgamesh after a moment of assessment. A small frown touches her face. This feeling is unpleasent. Her attention returns to Vortigern, green eyes glowing softly. Ea's effect on the castle is impossible to ignore, and as rubble falls from the ceiling, the goddess raises her weapon once more.

    "Behold the light that splits the Heavens and tethers the Earth."

    The roiling clouds above Caer Gwrtheyrn at last part with a sound like cracking glass. A great golden spike of light descends through the opening, burning away the darkness with divine radiance. It clashes with the ominous energies of Ea, the unmistakable purity of the Tower that Shines at the End of the World, surrounded by the Anti-World might of the Sword of Rupture. It crashes into the vile citadel from directly above, crashing through the upper floors and towers.

    "I am the Tower that Shines at the End of the World. I am the goddess Rhongomyniad. Your existence in the World of Man is rejected by the Anchor of the Storm."

    An unimaginably pure, divine radiance breaks through the throne room ceiling and descends upon the manifestation of Vortigern, converging on him from above as the energy from Ea engulfs him from the front.

Kalia (6856) has posed:
KORD: A blast of light impacts Vortigern, now six times the size of a man and winged. He stands his ground - he grows in response, as if that were required to endure the blast. Seven. Eight. Nine times. The ceiling of the citadel breaks over his head, the Vile King's shape shifting, slowly, from a humanoid, armored knight of pitch darkness, to something less human, more draconic. Features lenthen. Limbs become less relevant.

THEURGUS: And the great Dragon of Britain endures Theurgus' blast next too, the cold ice joining with Kord's assault against the increasingly large king. He takes a step back, finally losing something akin to grounds under the pressure.

KOTONE: Hurling chunks of the citadel back at him barely registers, though. He grows again, and again. The citadel is crumbling around him. Onto him. He does not care.

HAGURO: This time, the warship's rounds find purchase. In fact, the countless blasts finally disarm Vortigern, whose massive hammer falls to the ground. The walls of the citadels quake from the impact. Some begin falling outright.

BAHAMUT: The state of the citadel is helped in no way by Bahamut's thunderous blast, but the Vile King refuses to give the heroes more ground. Even as the energy blasts him, and visibly causes flinching, his pride won't let him show weakness.

STAREN: Staren's assault is likewise met with stoic denial of progress. Vortigern, stubborn old king, grows taller in response to the damage he presumably takes. Soon he'll outsize his own citadel, and then some.

GILGAMESH: No words. Only red, all-destroying light. Vortigern, a hole in the World, is attacked with light that destroys the World. It might be what saves him. The ground gives way, the citadel is blasted into nothingness. By the time the light of Ea fades, the battlefield is a sundered hilltop surrounded by the ashes of a forest and cracks in the earth. Vortigern slams into the ground.

GAWAIN: And he is scorched by Gawain's defiance. Galatine plunges into its body and trails up, cutting shadows and causing no visible damage, but the howl of the dragon, weakened by Enuma Elish, makes it so pointedly obvious that Gawain inflicted SOMETHING.

RHONGOMYNIAD: Then the Light of Judgment falls. A brutal onslaught of golden light to match Vortigern's darkness. The grounded dragon is scorched, seared, battered, and yet... a towering black shape rises in the light. A towering black dragon rises, larger than any castle, than any citadel, than any man-made building. The Dragon of Britain may as well be the size of Britain now, for all eyes can tell.

Kalia (6856) has posed:
EVERYONE: Vortigern's fury is inescapable. No distance is too great for the dragon's reach at this size. His claws try to rend all present; when his wings spread, the wind could sear flesh off bone. When his mouth opens, the breath of nothingness it unleashes is DEATH, bolstered a thousandfold by the White Dragon's hatred for those who oppose Britain's true will.

Notice: KALIA has shared DEFINING SKELETON CATCH with Vortigern.

"I will not die! I will not return to being a fragment of an age past! Britain NEEDS me! This wretched world NEEDS me! Fall, Red Dragon! Fall with your spear, fall with your light, fall with your knights!"

    Shockwaves of cutting darkness shoot out of the Vile King's body, joining the claws, the breath, the corrosive winds. It's an all-out, reckless offensive.

Gilgamesh has posed:
     There are not a lot of people the King of Heroes *cares* about.

     That is because there are not a lot of people who can understand the King of Heroes. Most of them are...stupid. Most people are stupid. It's a sad fact of the world, but most of them would rather puff out their chests and show off than listen, and shout morality at him through half-understood ideas. But there were a few, a rare few, who were like him. Priscilla. Enkidu.

     Rhongomyniad.

     The King of Heroes surges forward. He is unwilling to lose something precious to him. It isn't the woman, it isn't the physical Rhongomyniad, it isn't even the goddess. It is...

     It is that tenuous tie of genuine affection. That tenuous, fragile thread of understanding. That...

     ...that feeling that he isn't alone.

     The King is fast. He is much faster than he has any right to be. He moves into the path of the Dragon, levelling Ea back at the thing. The Sword of Rupture splits the attack down the middle. The blasted hilltop scores deep cuts as the Sword of Genesis splits the offensive. The King grabs the sword with both hands, holding it tight.

     He is directly in front of her.

     In this moment, he is, indeed, a Hero, by all definitions. In this moment he is shown to be the King.

     The Sword of Rupture is an overwhelmingly powerful force but the King is not. The King, already bloodied, already spent. The King, who must fuel Ea with his own power. The dragon's onslaught is...intense. Forceful. Powerful.

     It's enough that when Ea's spinning stops, Gilgamesh is left to take the hit, and is sent falling backwards past Rhongomyniad, bloody and half-dead. Ea disappears back into the Gate of Babylon as the King comes to a spinning half.

     He's still alive, still /awake/, but...

     ...if he hadn't protected her, he might have another attack in him.

     If he hadn't...spent his power on that...

     ...that...

     ...meaningful...?

     ...action...?

     The King's head hurts. Blood spills out of his mouth. He coughs.

     Was it meaningful? Did it mean *anything*? To him? To her? To the world? Was this a moment of folly on behalf of the King of Heroes? Surely...surely if he had sacrificed her, he could've simply...

     If he had left her to her own devices, he could've...

     ...she didn't need the...

     ........

Count Kord has posed:
    Enuma Elish shines through the barrier of darkness, and the light of Rhongomyniad right behind it. Kord winces from the power of unmaking and justice, and turtles behind his shadows enough to prevent becoming a nuclear shadow stretching across the fields as a result of being near something that is so antithetical to his very being. His flesh can be heard hissing over there for a second before he gets out of the way of the beams of light that shoot through the claws of his jagged shadow shield. And then the attack is over, and he sucks in a breath, briefly widening his eyes as they adjust to the changes in light and the environment. His head raises.

    The Dragon of Britain stands before them, and its claw comes down at him. He reacts promptly, and flaps his wings, weaving out of the way of the worst of it and mitigating some of the damage that could have sent him to the ground. He gains in altitude, and spreads out his wings and tail in a Y-shaped pose. His mouth opens wide, full of vague teeth. Black electricity surges across his form as the power of Destruction dances along his body. It isn't as bombastic, it isn't as thematic, it isn't as purposeful or emotional. It's just a raw force of elemental destruction in the form of a beam fired from his mouth toward Vortigern.

    Light, air, the very fabric of reality tears, much like Enuma Elish, but more primal and simple.

Sir Gawain has posed:
Everyone moves to strike down Vortigern. Gilgamesh fires Enuma Elish, one of the most powerful things Gawain has ever seen, besides Rhongomyniad's lance, which is equally powerful. Allies fire blasts and strikes and bullets, and move to slay him. But it's not enough. Vortigern reveals his true form, the dragon of darkness.

Gawain prepares himself. He clutches onto Galatine, as he returns, armor scorched and melted, and faces Vortigern. "I slew you once before. I will do it again. I will be the sun that pierces your shadow! Take this!" The knight begins channeling large bursts of mana. He needs to do this. The others have used their strongest attacks, so will he.

Galatine is thrown into the sky, as Gawain shouts out.

"EXCALIBUR GALATINE!"

A sun forms, even in all this darkness. It's bright and piercing, but smaller than the real thing. Galatine spins around in it, as a massive sword of sunlight shines down into Gawain's hands. He clutches it and the monumental blade, and turns to Vortigern. He has no words. He needs none. As blasts and bursts and everything else comes at him, Gawain takes it like a champ, the sun's blessing making it so even though his armor melts and burns, the knight himself weathers the blow.

The sword of sunlight is struck down. It moves to slash straight through Vortigern, to destroy him once and for all, hopefully. Holy sunfire moves to burn through his darkness, bringing light everywhere it strikes. This is the sister sword of Excalibur.

This is the sun.

Haguro has posed:
     If Haguro didn't have an inferiority complex before? Well.

She's going to be running for quite a bit. Between the psychic beams, the icy chains, the lightning blasts, the missiles, the confounding rocket-swords and incomprehensibly large lances and reality-screwing drill swords... How is Haguro supposed to even compare with that?! She picks up speed as she hears SOMETHING going on behind her, but getting out of the blast radius is far more important than looking at whatever it all is.

And then she hears Vortigern. How did he survive all of that? Perhaps it doesn't quite matter as much as the fact that Vortigern /is/ standing at all, albeit as a massive dragon that makes her stop and stare for a few moments. Despite the fear and the intimidation factor of suddenly being faced with something so large, however, Haguro can feel her spirit welling up even as that dragon unleashes unholy death upon the gathered Elites.

It's her time to leave a big impact of her own, too. Shooting and punching can only get her so far, however, and the only thing she has left in her arsenal is... Not really all that practical against a human-sized target. This time, however, this is not a human-sized target.

It's the perfectly-sized target.

Haguro starts running back towards Vortigern. Her tail snaps and even roars angrily as the Abyssal leaves all sense of form and refinement behind her. She darts in erratic patterns as she strains to avoid getting torn in half by those claws, although they do dig into flesh and leave black ichor dripping from her body. She slides to try and evade the breath of death, although it still sucks the life out of her and the color from her already pale skin. She trips trips on her way forward, but catches herself at the last moment and starts hurling herself forward with both hands and feet not unlike a wild animal.

She has to do this. It's not her home, it's not her people, and it's not even her place to do this, but she must. She opens her mouth, but instead of a well thought out retort relevant quip, or a thought-provoking question...

Haguro screams. No, it's more of a war cry, like someone that's psyching themselves up to put their all into something as they hurl themselves into the air and start glowing. It turns into more screaming as her body warps and the air warps around her, the Abyssal's form becoming less and less like a person with each second. Something's wrong, though. The warship itself is covered in odd growths, its turrets lined with teeth and its sides covered in black scales, barnacles, and even stains that look like blood. Metal screeches, the stench of gas fills the air, and the Abyssal warship surges forward as it sails through the air right at the massive dragon, all of its guns firing with reckless abandon in its head-on course to slam right into the dragon.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa doesn't seem to do much with the rock but when you have the likes of what Gilgamesh and Rhomgomyniad have let slip hell everyone else? She's like a bug, she keeps going she keep moving and this is all that saves Kotone from what's about to come. He catches Kotone with his claw and rips a large portion of her frame off wires and other mechanical systems are exposed where a human's gut would be the look on her face is one full of pain but there's also a mix of anger and defiance. How can she just cower after what's been let slip? She keeps her balance and rapidly tries to reroute some of the damaged systems. Kotone then looks up at the King for a moment.

She does not have any legendary weapons and her shell is stock when you get down to it. She is, however, stills standing and she has a present form an old friend.

Kotone moves forcing her damage body into action in the wake of Sir Gawain's attack she goes she kick in her double jump systems and get to the apex of a huge jump she'll land on the massive king if she can and will keep going higher and higher until she reaches up to the head with the apex of her jump she pulls something from her matter manipulator. A bandoleer full of plasma grenade which are currently armed and beeping as they count down. Before gravity takes hold? Kotone throws it down aiming for the vile king's maw.

"We reject you, you are the sort who'd step on all I have ever known and all those I love!"

She'll fall away praying the Grenades will do their work. She'll land some distance away and make ready to attack or defend if all the power let lose isn't enough to down this horror of the past.

Rhongomyniad has posed:
    It is difficult for Rhongomyniad to stand proudly like this when the Sword of Rupture is blasting a hole in the skin of the world's reality. Rhongomyniad's hair and mantle flutter madly from the clash of energies between Ea and the Divine Lance, as the castle is obliterated, as the forestland is incinerated. The furry mantle tears from the force that she must lean into, even at this safe distance, until the cacophony fades and the scar on the world is exposed. Glowing green eyes stare out across the exposed hellscape beneath the World, then lift to the shape that looms above it.

    The great dragon of Britain shows its true form at last, upon the ruined hilltop of Caer Gwrtheyrn. The monstrous being that the Goddess Rhongomyniad knows from memory and from instinct to be the great wyrm Guorthigirn Ddraig, The Dragon Tyrant Formerly Known As Vortigern.

    Her stance shifts to one of defense when the dragon readies its offense, but a shadow leaps in front of her. Quickly, Rhongomyniad swings the Lance away, raising her free hand to shield her face from the whirling energies around her. Her arm lowers enough to squint over her bracer. This silhouette...

    When the figure collapses past her, she turns to avoid it, and yet reaches out. The Divine Lance is dropped, and the King's fall is halted by a strong arm around his back, the familiar furry white mantle falling into place behind him around an extended arm. As he ruminates to himself the meaning of his actions, she stares down at him, face cast in shadow, eyes glowing that alluring emerald green. Uncommon on the face of the Goddess, the vaguest expression of unhappiness. The slightest indication of concern. She mouths a word, but no sound comes out, which seems to surprise her.

    After a moment, Rhongomyniad crouches, letting Gilgamesh down to the ground gently. She unfastens her mantle and leaves it with him as she rises. That barest look of sadness and concern gives way to one of determination just before she turns from him and steps out of his field of vision, giving him an unobstructed view of the sky-- and the gleaming golden pillar that is once more parting the clouds.

    Rhongomyniad collects the discarded Divine Lance, its light intensifying once more as she approaches the massive dragon Guorthigirn Ddraig. There are no words to be said, now. She barely registers the warship shelling it. She is tangentially aware that Gawain is still on his feet, giving his all. That the dragons Kord and Bahamut still fight. That the robotic human Kotone continues to shine with valor.

    The only thing that dominates her attention is Guorthigirn Ddraig.

    With the great wyrm beset on all sides, Rhongomyniad lifts the Divine Lance once more. The skies split once more around that great pillar of golden light, tapered like an enormous lance that descends on the dragon from above. It is followed by another. And then another, slamming into the beast again and again. The more it resists, the more she pounds against it, like a hammer driving a nail-- pounding the Dragon of Britain through the hole carved into the World by Ea.

    The Goddess' brows are set in a different way than usual. This is not the impassive, slightly uncomfortble glare she has become known for.

    Rhongomyniad, for as subtle as the difference in her expression is, is actually visibly angry.

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut...can do little but watch all of this. He always considered himself one of the most powerful entities in existence, but here are at least two that show they have as much if not even more...no, undeniably more power than himself. Somehow Gilgamesh and Rhongomyniad are able to contain the destruction to only their foe...and the landscape. It is humbling, and Bahamut already works to keep himself humble.

     The gunmetal dragon is left hovering in the sky on his powerful wings as Vortigern unleashes those huge claws and that nearly atomizing heat. Bahamut is hit by both and plumets from the sky like a small comet. He lands hard in a smoldering crater, barely moving.

     But moving he is. "I told you my resolve would not be broken!" Bahamut's deep, booming voice pierces the smoke, followed by the sight of his striking blue eyes, and he leaps backward, somersaulting through the air to land on all fours. He firmly plants each limb, four sets of heavy talons anchoring him firmly into the ground.

     The golden gyro hovering above his back starts to rotate, steadily getting faster. His wings spread as gold-white energy starts to arc over his body and into the gyro. Then it arcs once more and starts gathering in front of his open maw. Steadily it builds into a massive orb of swirling blue, white, grey, and purple energy. Soon it is as thick as Bahamut is broad. He sees what Rhongomyniad is doing, and his wings give a few flaps. He can't fly as fast as he usually might while he is charging, but he may be able to assist the Goddess in her efforts.

     There is a pulse of energy, then a beam as broad as Bahamut is tall lances out and toward the vile dragon. The swirling beam of pure destructive energy surges forth for several seconds, and when it finally does pass the very air and land detonate upward in an eruption of even more destruction. It is no Enuma Elish, but very few things have survived it in his experience. From his elevated angle he should be able to add at least some weight to Rhongomyniad's efforts.

Staren has posed:
    The image on Staren's screens of ENUMA ELISH tearing apart space (and probably time) reflects in Staren's eyes.

    This power, too, is part of reality. Because it exists.

    One day, something like it will be his. That is the true power of Man, which Vortigern doesn't understand.

    Rhongomyniad reveals her identity as The Tower That Shines at the End of the World. He'll have to look that up after this, it might be important.

    Everyone piles on attacks, but the hole in the world just gets bigger. Are they feeding it, or is it just losing its ability to control its form? The moment he thinks of the former is terrifying -- then Staren realizes that if they were making it MORE powerful, it wouldn't grow the fake, tiny form.

    But that is small comfort as claws and winds and breath tear into his machine. Some of the others aren't fighting any more. Rending it apart almost like paper. He has seconds left, maybe.

    Staren considers fleeing. If Vortigern is to be triumphant, the world that rallies to fight him will be better off for Staren's presense.

    But what about the rest of them? They're giving their all. Even Gilgamesh, for all the disagreement Staren has with him. Can he really leave them to die?

    However...

    All powers are his. All the possibilities of the Multiverse are potential tools at his disposal. Staren's dislike of gods is not over what they can do, but how some of them act. That there is power in faith and divinity is undeniable -- how could anyone who's seen what he's seen think otherwise? The faiths he denies are those that are misplaced, those whose gods don't follow through.

    And despite all of Staren's preparations for the contrary, time and time again heroes have won. Some of them have fallen, but the enemy is always defeated.

    The chain of reasoning goes through Staren's mind in nearly an instant. Seconds left.

    The left shoulderpack opens. The Star Hawk drops its gunpod and pulls out a mecha-sized revolver. It looks like a goddamn giant Colt Peacemaker with a triple-M monogram on the side. Staren sometimes says it's the weapon of a god, but the truth is it was created by a man, long before they became a god. A man who would do anything to protect those who can't protect themselves. A man who risked his soul stealing secrets from demons, and when there were no more secrets to steal, risked it to bind those demons' very essence to perform 'impossible' feats.

    Staren doesn't have any faith in gods he's never met, or seen do anything.

    But he has faith in his friends.

    Giant mechanical hands point the barrel at the hole in the world, the enemy of all people, and pull the trigger.

    It looks like two bullets fly out. And then ten more as Staren empties the cylinder. But perhaps the point isn't just how it works, but the intent behind its creation -- the intent to help Staren slay the monsters that threaten people that need protecting.

    Morg would want this thing dead. Nonexistant. Staren has absolute faith in that.

Kalia (6856) has posed:
    Vortigern's fury, it turns out, was a fleeting moment.

    The sun shines down on it and sets it ablaze, the Vile King too weak from the combined assaults to continue devouring holy light. A blast of black electricity, courtesy of Kord, joins the radiant slash, and Haguro finally has the opportunity to go full-size and slam into something so large that it must feel satisfying, even if there's no blood to be seen for her troubles. There's just the flinching of the dragon, caught under heat, lightning and ship, joined in by countless explosives moments later.

    The massive beast slumps down, rumbling.

    Rhongomyniad rearms the lance. She attempts to batter Vortigern out of the World. He refuses, claws digging into the land, carving new valleys that'll need to be named.

    "I REFUSE, KING OF KNIGHTS!"

    He does. He really does.

    Shots from Staren blast Vortigern's head down, and the grip of his claws on the planet weakens. He screeches, louder.

    "/I REFUSE/!"

    It was exactly like last time.

    The flare from Bahamut finishes the job, Vortigern's grip, if nothing else, faltering just long enough from the assault that Rhongomyniad is able to land her final blow.

    Vortigern curses King Arthur's name to the last second, as the massive beast is shunted back outside the World, and things start clearing up. The sky lightens, the sun shines through.

    This chunk of land is pretty screwed up though.

    Away from the literal pile of red circles that stacked up, Kalia adjusts their scarf. That was great. They're happy they could help that old man get another swing at their hated enemy, even if it didn't work out. Everyone deserves that chance if they want it bad enough.

    Ah well! They're gone, the next moment. No sense staying.

Theurgus (1103) has posed:
    As the field clears, the fate of Theurgus after the Dragon King's attack is revealed. She's still where she landed after being struck by the black beam, but face down, revealed as the debris clears away. She was caught not just in the fury, but in the backlash of the King of Heroe's and King of Knight's attacks. Angry looking splits of red damaged code criss cross her body, and the damage has propogated far enough that she's lost her transformation, a blue-haired woman in a modified labcoat laying where the Goddess was.

    Someone might need to get her out of the area.

Rhongomyniad has posed:
    Rhongomyniad slams the Lance home one final time, as the combined might of multiple magical weapons at last weakens Vortigern enough to eject him from the World. The golden light of the Tower that Shines at the End of the World wedges itself in the hole in the World's skin, fully blocking the opening. A stray wyvern or wolfman may have crept through in the interim, but this can be dealt with later. For now...

    She holds out the gleaming Divine Lance in her hand, releasing it. Shining white castle walls begin to rise around the conical shape plugging the opening. The pillar of light flickers, then disappears, as a small castle fortress takes its place. Plugging the hole in the Skin of the World until the scar can be healed. Although this fortress has no gates, no doors, and no windows. A solid structure of tightly fitted stone, nested upon the top of Caer Gwrtheyrn.

    It doesn't take her long. And once she is finished, she turns her back to it, fixing her emerald gaze on the fallen King of Heroes. She approaches, metal bands materializing and winding together around the Lance's light in that tight, distinctive braid until the weapon is sheathed once more. Only then does it disappear completely, and she knees beside Gilgamesh.

    She doesn't ask. She doesn't even hesitate. Rhongomyniad merely bundles the King of Heroes in her discarded, bloodied mantle and then picks him up in...well, a princess carry. Turning once more, she casts her eyes over the battlefield.

    "...Friends. Comrades. Each of you. Paladin, Concord, Watch, Free Lancers-- All are welcome to recuperate within the walls of Camelot. My gratitude for your help this day is boundless. England, in turn, owes you a great debt that I shall endeavor to repay."

    She then departs, leading the way to the shining Holy City.

Staren has posed:
    And then Vortigern is gone.

    Smoke wafts from the barrel of the Annihilator. In the now-clear daylight, the mecha holding it can be seen to have huge claw marks torn out of it, all the armor on its front burned away, part of its internals slagged or rusted or turned to dust or whatever the strange shadow aura did to it. Unsteadily, it drops to one knee, with the screech of straining metal and some loud cracks as more parts buckle and things inside spark.

    The cockpit opens and Staren drops down on a line, then runs up to check on the others. Sure, he seems fine NOW, but later it will be a strain on his body cleaning up everything he just put in his blood. Perhaps mainly a strain on his kidneys, really.

    But hey, not dead! Always a plus. His cortical stack would not save him from his entire body being shadowblasted, after all.

    Staren gives a brief glance to most of the Paladins -- if they're in need of immediate medical attention, of course he'll help, but for the most part he's concerned with Kotone and his fellow Concord. Staren runs up to them and actually asks "Are you okay?" to each one.

    Anyone who needs evac (like Theurgus) is beamed up with him to his ship momentarily. "Thanks," Staren replies to the goddess's offer, "But I need the tools on my ship. Maybe I'll drop by later, though."

    Coming back to repair the Star Hawk will take awhile, although already, tiny drones emerge from its form, crawling over it to make what repairs they can without additional materials.

    For now, it kneels there like a giant metal statue in memory of the battle.

Haguro has posed:
     Distorted roaring continues to erupt from the Abyssal Cruiser long after it had already crashed into the dragon-form of Vortigern, now stranded on dry land while the dust settles from the finish of that battle. It takes a few more minutes before that noise subsides, and Haguro reappears.

     Facedown. She's still shaking as Staren comes by to check on her, nodding after a moment while trying to steady herself. "C... Close enough. That was a... That was a good learning experience." She comments, furrowing her brow slightly when Rhongomyniad welcomes everyone into the castle.

     Well, it wouldn't hurt to TRY and see a little of the interior as long as she behaves herself.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa is holding one arm over her gut and looing to Staren for a moment she looks to her friend long for a moment. "Ya I could use some repairs if you would be so Kind, funny how I'm now all steel and I still feel pain. So ya I could use some help if your offering."

Bahamut has posed:
     After the energy of his Mega Flare fades, Bahamut has to land and just...groan. He has dozens of cracks and craters in his metallic hide, his wings are frayed, there is at least one deep gash in his side, and he can't even stand up straight. So, he just sits there to at least recover some energy. He watches the building of the sealing castle, and Rhongomyniad picking up Gilgamesh. And chuckles just a bit at Gilgamesh's reactions and watches Staren scurry about checking on everyone. He chuckles and smirks as Staren asks him if he is okay and waves the scientist off. "I will be fine. But, thank you for your concern. However, if anyone is in dire need, take these." He reaches into a metal pack well hidden amongst his scales before handing Staren a dragon-sized handful of healing potions and a few feathers that would be easy to identify as downy feathers from a phoenix. Now that the battle is over, Bahamut even spares a potion for himself.

     Then he finally rises and makes his way to Gilgamesh and Rhongomyniad and hands them potions as well. "Well fought. That vile creature never stood a chance."